


Gentlemech's Club

by espioc



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: AU, Dubious Consent, Multi, OOC, Pole Dancing, Prostitution, Stripper fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espioc/pseuds/espioc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blurr works as a technically illegal prostitute in a strip club. Shockwave's bottom bitch. </p><p>Just...I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gentlemech's Club

**Author's Note:**

> Heh, I want to say this isn’t my style, or the kind of story I usually write, but I can’t really say that any more can I, considering I’ve already done a couple of things outside of my comfort zone. Hope nobody gets mad at me for this. This fic just straight up sucks but I’m posting it anyways.

Blurr swung around one more time before dancing around the pole. Every step carefully placed, making sure the bots eyes were kept on his legs and aft before he went back to the pole and rolled against it. He spread his legs and leaned down, showing off his flexibility. The cheers and whistles of the crowed egged him on as perverted optics glued themselves to his perfect frame. Desperate servos grabbed at his aft and legs, tossing him money and stuffing it into a strap on his leg.

The exotic dancer strutted around the stage, running hands over his thighs, drawing hungry eyes as he tempted the viewers below, hoping to get even better shanix after his performance ended and he was on the floor, and ideally in the berth.

His place of employment wasn’t technically legal but it acted like it was, denying the accusations of prostitution despite taking part in it. Blurr was the top seller, and most had to wait in line, but he was fully willing to serve any paying customer. He had to be, or he might not make enough to please his pimp, and Blurr preferred not to go through what that entailed.

After his performance ended the slender blue bot stepped off the stage and let the next performer take his place. There was already a group gathered before his cubicle, waiting anxiously for the smaller bot to arrive. Blurr smirked at the sight. He’d become strangely cocky with experience. The horde fidgeted as their prize approached “Whose first?” Blurr asked his tone low and sensual. He didn’t give them time to answer; instead he chose one and lead them into the room, fitted with nothing but a berth and a single lamp stationed in the corner.

He closed the dark purple curtains, shielding the glass walls, and stood before his first client. The bot seemed nervous, his hands fidgeted as his leg sat restlessly against the other “I-I’ve never done this before,” he confessed, keeping his eyes off the slender frame.

Blurr smiled “Are you nervous?” asked the performer “I can give you a few minutes to decide what you want.”

“No-I-I-know what I want. U-h-h, do you do, blow jobs?”

“I do whatever you want. Accept spark, that belongs to someone else honey.”

“That’s fine.”

“If you’re nervous I can take the lead.”

“I think I’d prefer that, if you don’t mind. But…I’d still like to be on top.”

Blurr leaned down, placing a hand on either side of the bot and getting in close to his face “Whatever you want as long as you got the shanix to pay for it.”

“Oh I-I got it.”

“Then your meter it running.”

“…Is kissing allowed?”

“If that’s what you want, but you’ll have to pay extra.”

“Oh…why?”

“It makes my mech jealous.”

“Who-who’s your mech?”

“Does that really matter now?” asked Blurr, ready to get down to business but still being bothered by these trivial questions

“Well, I’d like to know whose bot I’m fragging. If I end up hurting you I want to know who’s coming to offline me.”

Blurr half scoffed, not wanting to sound tired of his persistence but failing to do so. Three new customers had already asked him that question and he ended up losing all three to the answer. He leaned up, ready for instant resistance “Shockwave.” He answered bluntly.

The customer paled “Sh-sh-sh-shockwave?” he stammered “Your mech is Shockwave?” he stood up quickly “Oh no, I-I can’t do this.”

“You can’t just back out.” Blurr started “Shockwave is the one selling me, it’s fine.” He insisted.

“No-No-I-I don’t want to do something wrong or hurt you…I-I have a big spike, I could-”

Blurr stifled a laugh “I take Shockwave’s spike, honey, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The bot looked like he was reconsidering it. “No,” he stated finally, shaking his head “I-I can’t do this. I’ll find another. H-how much do I owe you?”

Blurr sighed, rolling his optics before giving a number. The patron paid quickly and left even faster. Blurr leaned on the door frame, watching him scurry away.

“Heard about Shockwave huh?” asked one of the regulars, next in line. Blurr let out a long breath, similar to a sigh “Yeah,” he confirmed, then turning his attention to Rodimus “I already know what you want,” he stated, the smile returning to his lips. The other bot smiled back, putting hand on Blurr’s chest and pushing him back into the room “Maybe we’ll mix it up tonight.” He stated, dimming the light and letting the blue bot fall back onto the berth.

“I doubt it.”

The Prime climbed over the somewhat smaller frame and opened his spike chamber, releasing the erect member right into Blurr’s hands. Blurr played with the thick spike, rubbing his hands over the already dripping tip while running another up and down the shaft “Would you rather do it raw or protected so I don’t have to clean the berth again?” Blurr asked as he tickled the dick.

Rodimus moaned “Raw,” he answered, struggling to get words out through the pleasure he was receiving “And I think I want you to use your mouth tonight too.”

Blurr smirked “Before or after?”

“Both,”

“Oh, maybe you are mixing it up tonight.”

“Lets just get to it.”

Rodimus pulled out of Blurr’s hands and took the bot by his thighs, lining up the spike with the swollen open valve. He positioned Blurr as he pleased, opening the blue bots legs as wide as they could go before pushing his knees up and easing the thick spike into Blurr. The blue bot moaned, like he was supposed to, and took the spike with ease. It was nothing compared to Shockwave’s.

The spike slid in and out slowly, now coated with the lubricant that Blurr’s body produced at a rapid pace. Rodimus picked up speed until he was eventually ramming into the bot with all of his might, slamming into the back of the valve and bruising the gestation chamber. Blurr continued to moan, though, even through the pain, begging for more, harder, faster, and groaning for the thick spike to fuck him deeper.

“Do you want that?” Rodmus asked through his grunts and pants “come on, tell me, tell me you like it.”

Blurr groaned, pretending it was from pleasure when, in reality, it was from pain “I like it,” Blurr sighed, “deeper,” he groaned, lying.

Rodimus complied with the fake demand, too deep in his own pleasure session to realize just how much he was hurting Blurr. With two more hard thrusts Rodimus released into Blurr with a loud groan, flooding the valve with transfluid. Almost as soon as it happened he pulled out and leaned back.

Blurr knew what he was supposed to do from there, and proceeded to clean the spike with his mouth, all while looking Rodimus in the eye and letting the prime’s hand sit on the back of his head. Rodimus eventually came again. Some of the transfluid spilled past Blurr’s lips but he swallowed most of it. Without giving Blurr time to recover Rodimus shoved Blurr back into the bed and fragged him hard again.

Blurr didn’t overload at all during the session, but Rodimus indulged himself four times, ruining the mattress and sheets for the third time this week.

Blurr groaned, not wanting to deal with it. Rodimus paid, then left, smirking on the way out and promising to return next week. Blurr put on a fake smile and led him to the door. He looked out on the line in front of his room and sighed.

“One moment boys, I’ll be right out,” he announced, putting on a wide smile and bedroom eyes. The mechs before the door were more than willing to wait for such a perfect prize. Everyone in the club drooled over Blurr, but not everyone could afford him. Being the best at what he did, as well as the owners mate, added on a few extra fees.

Blurr replaced the berth pad and sheets, throwing the old ones in the incinerator, before going to the wash wracks and purging his tanks. Swallowing transfluid always made him sick. The very idea of it disgusted him, but he did it anyways because swallowing all of it brought in a good amount of tips.

He had to take a moment to recover from the sickness, as well as the pain throbbing through his valve. He’d been cut again, he could tell. He could feel the tear widen as he moved, and the two edges run against each other with every step. He had to push through it though, and get to the next customer. The tips he’d made dancing were not enough to please Shockwave, and Blurr had only made it through one mech tonight. He had to do at least four more to keep up his reputation as the bot who would do anything. He also wanted to keep the meter running for as long as possible.

After taking a deep breath and blocking the pain from his processor Blurr opened the door and let in the next patron, Powerglide. It was one of his favorite customers because he was gentle and didn’t often penetrate Blurr, however he was also one of Blurr’s least favorite customers because he often required blowjobs and simply got himself off then left, using up very little time and not making Blurr much prophet. Some things, like coming in Blurr’s mouth or kissing, or anything weird, was extra, but Powerglide had learned to avoid any extra fees.

Blurr took little time to recover from the session before letting the next one it. Blurr, while completely sick after the third session, as well as gaining another few tears, was happy to have a session that long. It lasted about two hours with a load of extra fees. This one could get him through the night. By the time he finished it was only two hours before the club closed for the day.

In that time Blurr managed to get through three more people, all requiring extra fees and two of three giving a generous tip.

When the end of the night came Wheelie came to disperse the line before Blurr’s door. “Okay line, you’re out of time. The club is closing so you must be going.”

The entire line groaned with disappointment. They left without question, knowing that if they put up a fight the owner would destroy them.

As soon as most of the waiting mechs were gone Wheelie came to Blurr’s door, where Blurr was squatting, “Thanks Wheelie,” he whispered, putting a bit of shanix in his tip hat. He’d made enough to help out the mini-bot. Wheelie was there to help out the performers, retrieve for them energon when they needed it, protection, new sheets or berth pads and medicine for tears, cuts, burns, bight marks or dents. On rare occasions he’s counseled distressed bots, but most of that was left to Mirage, who organized the stage performers and kept track of everything.

As everyone cleaned up the show room and tidied up their rooms, someone yelled “The boss is coming!” and everyone began scurrying about as quick as they could to get everything done before he walked through the door. Mirage managed to take hold of Blurr as he bolted past and drag him to the door so he could be there when Shockwave walked in.

By the time the owner was through the door everyone was lined up and ready for inspection. Shockwave looked around for a moment before wrapping an arm around Blurr’s waist and walking further into the club. Shockwave ran a tight ship. He wanted everything clean by the end of the night and his profit ready and waiting on the table. He got 40% of what every performer made, and used it to pay those who weren’t performing as well as pay to keep the club open and illegal. It took a good amount of bribing to keep some people quiet, but not enough to put him out of business. He took more money from Blurr than anyone else, so there was more pressure on the blue bot to make a good profit.

Shockwave collected his money. He sat Blurr down in a chair and told him to stay put while he inspected everything. He checked out the floor, the stage, the tables and chairs, to make sure everything was clean and in order. Part of working in his facility was cleaning. One must clean the messes they made, or caused, and his performers caused a lot of messes. Shockwave, in addition to a place to sell themselves, provided his performers with housing if they chose to use it, and protection. The fees he took were for rent and to pay others.

There were many bots who wanted to work for Shockwave. Among the illegal prostitution ring he was an ideal pimp. He was fair, and protective and took less money than any others these bots could be working for, and he didn’t take it all for himself. Of course, though, not everyone could work for Shockwave, and not just anyone qualified. They had to be dignified, even if only a little, and they had to be the best at what they did. So Shockwave didn’t have a great deal of people working under him.

When Shockwave finished the inspection he looked to his group of employees, lined up before the brightly lit stage.

“Why are the stage lights still on?” he asked after a moment, looking to Mirage, who was in charge of these things. Mirage stiffened, looking at his data pad which had the list of things to get done on it “I-I thought you told me to keep the stage lights on sir.” He stammered.

“Did I? I must have forgotten. I will look into that then. From now on, however, I prefer you turn the stage lights to low and turn the regular lights on. I can see better in regular lighting than I can the neon.”

Mirage seemed almost surprised by the response “Alright-sir—I’ll be sure to do that.”

“I’m sure you will.” Shockwave turned, stumbling slightly as he did, and knocking over a table.

Blurr, seeing this, suddenly came to attention. His brow furrowed in fear. Blurr had already dealt with six customers today, his valve was sore and his mouth tasted disgusting, he did not have the patience or energy to deal with drunk Shockwave. Drunk Shockwave was never a nice thing to interface with. Shockwave being intoxicated was an interesting experience. He became much kinder, exceedingly rougher, and either more or less talkative. Today it seemed like less. While this didn’t happen often it was still something Blurr dreaded. He knew that Shockwave would take him to the apartment and ram him into the headboard, trying very hard to fit the spike entirely in the valve, despite it clearly not fitting.

After his little stumble Shockwave went to examine the other rooms. When he was gone Blurr sent Wheelie on a mission to get him relaxation and numbing cream from the first aid room. Blurr would get it himself but he wasn’t allowed to move. Wheelie rushed off, retrieving the equipment for his friend. On a regular night Blurr would be able to convince Shockwave not to interface because he’d been torn several times that day. Trying to reason with a tipsy Shockwave was impossible. So Blurr numbed himself to take the pain away, and simply faked it like he did on most occasions.

When Shockwave returned Wheelie hadn’t come back yet. The tank looked over his employees once again then let them go, not even noticing the missing tiny bot. When everyone dispersed Shockwave grabbed his bot by the arm and dragged him to the door without a word. Blurr struggled against the grip but Shockwave didn’t notice. Right before they reached the exit Wheelie came back and tossed Blurr a first aid kit fitted with the things Blurr would need.

“Thanks Wheelie.” Blurr whispered, then following his mech without question.

When they got home Shockwave shoved his bot into the berth room and told him to get cleaned up before they interfaced. As Blurr made his way to the wash wracks Shockwave went to sit on the berth, waiting.

In the wash wracks he applied the numbing and relaxing cream to his swollen and torn valve before meeting Shockwave back in the room, bedroom eyes on, ready to act.

He strutted sensually to the bed, making sure his hips swayed the way Shockwave liked it. He crawled up the bed, arching his back and sticking out his chest as he ran a hand up his mechs legs “Why don’t you just sit back tonight, baby, and let me take care of you,” he whispered, sticking on a smirk and tapping the spike cover until the erect member stuck up between them.

Shockwave did nothing to stop him. He allowed Blurr to stimulate the spike with his nimble fingers for a while before he got bored and flipped them over. In no time at all he was lining up his spike with the numb, yet lubricating valve, and sticking it in without warning.

Blurr could feel the thick warmth of it , but he couldn’t feel how much it hurt until Shockwave began ramming into his gestation chamber. At that point Blurr was crying. He’d already been dented and bruised; he did not need a half drunk Shockwave trying to wreck him into the bed.

Blurr tried to squirm out from under his large partner, nearly begging Shockwave to stop. He was taken roughly by the arms and dragged back under the mech, continuing to ram into him. Shockwave leaned in close, grunting out the single warning he would give the blue bot “Don’t forget who you belong to,” he slurred “You know what you are, now keep still and keep moaning.”

Blurr moaned alright, but not in pleasure. He moaned in pain and fear, knowing that if he fought back he’d most likely receive another black eye. With business doing so well that was something he could not afford. So instead of fighting he just sat still. His valve was still numb but by the time Shockwave overloaded it was wearing off, and Blurr began to feel the prickly spike scratch at the tears within the valve. He stifled a cry, forcing his eyes shut and bighting his lip, pretending to overload to hide what was really happening.

With two more hard thrusts Shockwave finished with Blurr, retraced his spike and laid down for recharge.

Blurr simply lay there, unable to move before he willed himself to do so. He carefully climbed from the berth and maneuvered through the dimply lit room carefully, having memorized every creak in the floor as not to wake up Shockwave. He made it to the wash wracks without a hitch and quickly got to work on restoring his valve. The bright light of the bathroom was both refreshing and painful. Blurr spent most of his time in a dim berth room under horny mechs so his access to fresh clean light was limited.

Since he started working for Shockwave he’d come to miss the light. If he wasn’t interfacing he was performing and if he wasn’t performing he was sleeping. It wasn’t as though he’d _never_ seen the light of day, it had just become rare in his life. People constantly wondered why Blurr didn’t pursue a different profession, considering how many skills he possessed. Whenever anyone asked Blurr always answered with ‘I don’t know’ because he didn’t. He was the fastest bot on Cybertron stuck in a “Gentleman’s Club”, if one could really call it that. He guessed it was how good it had felt in the beginning. It was because for the first few years he could feel the interface, he wasn’t as torn, or confused, he was sober and confident and Shockwave treated him well. Of course, now, he was still protected and Shockwave treated him well when he was sober, but now Blurr couldn’t get to be without a few drinks, and it took him even more to get through a day of work, even a good day. He didn’t hate it, it had just—changed.

Shockwave said he could leave whenever he wanted but Blurr didn’t believe him.

Blurr also didn’t pursue racing because it was too late. By now he’d probably interfaced with half the mechs on Cybertron, and he had no interest in being turned away because of his reputation as a promiscuous bot. Not even the cheap race tracks would accept him into their ranks.

Blurr sat on the edge of the tub, he retracted his interface panel and began the usual routine. He started off by cleaning out the valve, before applying an antibacterial spray then coating everything in numbing cream and a metallic bonding component Shockwave had bought for him to help speed up recovery. Blurr had to use it on more occasions than he would care to admit.

When Blurr finished he snuck back into the room and climbed carefully under the covers, feeling much better.

 

* * *

 

  

In the morning Blurr was greeted by a large arm wrapped around his waist, and a strange feeling of content filling his processor. He could feel the heat of the sun shining through the large window beside the berth and warming his platting beneath the thin blanket. The arm on his waist shifted as the large mech leaned over him, spotting Blurr’s face with soft spark kisses. Blurr smiled “That tickles,” he mumbled, raising his arms above his head in a short stretch. He then fell limp and let soft kisses and claws tickle his face and waist.

“I apologize for hurting you last night,” Shockwave said quietly “You know I do not like to hurt you, but I always end up doing it anyways…I will attempt to hold back my less than desirable urges. Sleep now darling, you deserve it.”

Blurr let out a soft sigh, falling into recharge. He would be waking up a few hours from now and working most of the night, but until then he would rest, un-anxiously awaiting the night ahead, which was sure to be a doozy.

 

 


End file.
